


The Seafarer

by ohmybgosh



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmybgosh/pseuds/ohmybgosh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan will never leave Jim. Even when he can't find a reason to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seafarer

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Office is a tv show on NBC and The Seafarer is an Anglo-Saxon poem. I did not write either of them.

The closet – his office – has fluorescent lights that, after last night, give him a pounding headache. Frequently, he takes off his glasses and sets his head in his hands, fingers rolling uselessly over his eyelids.  
Last night Ryan got drunk. He doesn’t like to remember the reason that got him there; perhaps it was Pam putting up a new picture of the chunky, red-faced baby next to her computer, maybe it was Jim’s hand that always found its way to Pam’s shoulder, or Kelly calling him out on ditching her last night, or most likely an unbearable combination of the three, but, evidently, it ended with him on a barstool, pilling peanut shells on the sticky counter.  
Time passes slowly that day. He makes no sales. He’s mean to Kelly. He sits alone at lunch. He walks in on Jim in the kitchen, who acts like Ryan never stayed with him while Pam was at art school, like Ryan was never his friend before Karen, before New York, before Pam. Ryan hates it. He hates how Jim shows up at his apartment, unannounced, full of need. He needs Ryan; they both know it, and Ryan, in a different situation, would like the power he holds, but he has never felt this weak.  
Sometimes, when Pam was on maternity leave, Jim would drag his fingers across the back of Ryan’s neck, or leave a note on his desk. It wasn’t so bad then, when Pam was gone. Almost every day they would be the last to leave the office, brushing off invitations to get a drink with Michael, and hiding in various, increasingly creative places from Andy or Dwight or Kelly. They would hop into Jim’s car – the backseat was much more comfortable than Ryan’s – lock the doors, and disappear from view of the cameras.  
It’s been almost two weeks now, since Ryan has felt Jim’s body against his. He thinks he is going through withdrawal. He has dark circles under his eyes, his hands shake on their own accord, and he finds himself staring at Jim, every time he gets the chance.  
It’s 4:45 PM now. Ryan sits in his char, staring at the lights. A myriad of rainbows reflect off of his glasses. His stomach rumbles; the sound resonates through his body, but he doesn’t get up. He would much rather starve than see Pam and Jim being a married couple. The thought makes him jealous, though he tells himself this is irrational, isn’t it? Hasn’t he spent the past two weeks telling himself that there was nothing between them anymore? It’s been so long; he can’t remember why he likes Jim at all. Someone knocks softly on the door. Ryan swivels his chair and blinks several times, thinking he’s gone blind when the sudden movement leaves pink lights hazing around his pupils.  
“Ryan?” Jim calls. Ryan opens the door.  
“Hey,” Jim says. He leans against the door frame. “I haven’t seen you since three.” Ryan says nothing. He busies himself with trying to bite off a hang nail on his thumb.  
“Pam left early today, to get Cece from her mom’s.” Jim steps in the cramped office and shuts the door. He reaches over Ryan’s shoulder and takes Ryan’s water bottle, popping the cover and taking sip. Ryan glares at him.  
Jim sets the water down and sits on Ryan’s desk. Ryan swivels his chair again, to face Jim. He knows what’s coming, so when Jim leans down, lips pursed, Ryan meets him with the same amount of desperation. Jim pulls Ryan closer so that the chair rolls in between Jim’s legs. Ryan runs both hands up Jim’s thighs; his fingers walk like spiders up to his pants, then hook like burrs to his waistline.  
Jim’s back is hunched, to reach Ryan’s face. He has one hand gripped on the arm rest of the chair and the other takes off Ryan’s glasses and places them on the desk, then moves up to cup the back of Ryan’s neck. Ryan breaks their kiss. He rests his forehead against Jim’s chest and struggles to unbutton Jim’s pants. Jim moves his hands away.  
“Not now,” he murmurs.  
“In my car?” Ryan moves his hands down again.  
“No.”  
“My apartment?”  
“Pam’s waiting,” Jim sighs. “She’ll be mad if I’m late. I can’t leave her alone with Cece again.” He’s referring to the last time they did this, when they stayed at Ryan’s far too late, watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and smoking an old, wooden pipe that Ryan swiped from his parents house. Pam had reprimanded him for being two hours late, and he tried, without success, to convince her that he got a drink with Ryan and they lost track of time. This, in a way, was true. After indulging in a passionate affair that started in Jim’s car and ended in Ryan’s kitchen, they collapsed on his couch, opened a bottle of wine, lit the pipe, and turned on the TV. Jim was too busy fiddling with Ryan’s hair to check the time. And Ryan was too busy not caring about the time to tell Jim when it was way past his curfew.  
“Then why are you here?” Ryan asks, not harshly, but wearily.  
“Because we’re finally alone.” Jim runs his index finger down Ryan’s jaw. “I really missed this.” Ryan sighs deeply and lets his head fall on Jim’s chest. Jim wants to talk. He loves to talk. Ryan would much rather speak as little as possible, letting the ragged breathes and desperate touches become their dialogue. This is one of the many things they clash on. Ryan wonders what force keeps flinging him back to Jim, even when their turbulent relationship leaves Ryan depressed and cold-hearted.  
He ends up giving Jim a ride home, and, for some reason he refuses to acknowledge, won’t let Jim take a cab home. After dropping Jim off, he goes home. He makes himself a bowl of soup, but ends up not eating it; his appetite must have left the car when Jim did. He gets in bed at 8:30, but lies awake for hours.  
Ryan can’t explain why he returns again and again to Jim, when their arrangement makes him sick. There is so much contempt, yet so much passion between them. Jim can make him feel genuinely happy. He can make him forget about his loveless relationship with Kelly, his hate for his job and the people he works with. But other times Ryan hates Jim, the person Jim is, the things he does, the life he’s made for himself. Ryan hates how he’s left his dream for Jim – his dream of making money, of finally, permanently, leaving Scranton. It perplexes Ryan, this revolting affair they have. Why, he will never understand why he goes back to Jim over and over, when this crushing, darkening romance they have makes him feel overwhelmingly alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is really depressing, but I felt like that would be the relationship between those characters, based on their history and personalities. The story, as you can tell from the title, is based on the ideas in the Anglo-Saxon poem “The Seafarer.”


End file.
